The Truth About Jane Doe

by Linda Warren

  “C.J.” He tried to stop her from saying more.

  “No, it’s true, isn’t it?” She leaped to her feet. “He was trying to kill me. You just happened to be there.” She paused. “Who would want to kill me?” Glancing at his face, she answered her own question. “The Townsends.”

  “We don’t know that.”

  “Oh, I forgot, you’re their lawyer, so naturally you’re going to take up for them.”

  He ran a hand through his wet hair in frustration. “C.J., I don’t know what’s going on, but right now my primary concern is getting us out of here. Then I’m going to find some answers.” He studied the steep cliff. “It’s not going to be as easy going up as it was coming down, but let’s go.” He started down the narrow embankment. It was about four feet from the water to the base of the cliff. “Look for a cow trail.”

  She followed, noticing their feet making imprints in the mud. She also noticed something else. His slacks were clinging to him, boldly emphasizing his muscled legs—and well-defined rear. Shaking her head, she wondered why she was thinking such things. She should be concentrating on their predicament. If they didn’t find a way up the cliff, they could be stranded on this lonely river for hours.

  They’d walked for about five minutes when Matthew stopped and pointed to a cow path that curved to the top.

  “You go first,” he instructed.

  Slowly she started up. Her wet feet slipped a couple of times, but Matthew was always there to catch her.

  “Do you know your clothes are clinging in a most revealing way?” he asked.

  She sent him a secretive smile. “Have you looked at yourself?”

  “Good God,” he exclaimed, and she looked back to see him staring down at himself. “You should have said something.” He tried to adjust his wet slacks, but they remained firmly in place.

  She laughed. “And spoil the view? I don’t think so.”

  Matthew thought he could listen to the sound of her laughter for the rest of his life. He now knew what it took to make C.J. laugh—danger, excitement and a good view of his body. “Is that a feminist remark?” he wanted to know. “Or the opposite?”

  “Just the truth.” She laughed again, and the strange bubbly feeling inside her gave C.J. the extra strength to reach the top. With a sigh she sank onto the knoll. Matthew dropped down beside her.

  “We made it,” she sighed, and stretched out full-length on the grass, her face to the sky, letting the April sun warm her wet and weary body.

  Matthew watched her face, then with one finger touched the mud on her soft cheek. She shifted toward him, her green eyes dreamy.

  “We look like two drowned rats,” he said, his brown eyes gleaming. Then they darkened with a passion she couldn’t miss. “But you have to be the most beautiful drowned rat I’ve ever seen.”

  She knew he was going to kiss her, and every fatigued aching cell in her wanted his kiss. That recognition jolted her to her senses. As he bent his head, she turned hers. His kiss landed on her cheek. Abruptly she got to her feet.

  “We shouldn’t get emotionally involved,” she stated briskly, and nervously brushed dried mud from her clothes.

  “I was only going to kiss you.”

  “Kissing leads to other things.” How she wished she’d had the chance to voice her questions about his father earlier. Now wasn’t the time. Maybe later.

  He sat up and frowned at the confusion on her face.

  “Besides, you’re the Townsends’ lawyer and—” She stopped as something occurred to her.

  “And?” he prompted.

  “You’re the only one I told about taking the shortcut.”

  His eyes narrowed. “What are you saying?” he asked in a cold careful voice.

  C.J.’s mind raced dangerously. “I’m saying that guy knew exactly where to find me.”

  Swiftly Matthew got to his feet, his eyes black with anger. “You think I set this up? That I enjoy getting shot at and endangering my life by jumping off a cliff into a treacherous river? Well, let me tell you something, lady. I might be the Townsends’ lawyer, but I’m not stupid, and you and I have nothing else to say to each other.”

  “Fine,” she shouted as he marched off angrily. She should have stayed away from him, she told herself. What did she really know about him except that he was Matt’s son and that she was curious about him? Curiosity was going to get her killed.

  Even though the sun was warm, her body trembled with exhaustion and fear. She took a shaky breath and clenched her grubby hands into fists. Wait a minute, she cautioned herself. Think about this rationally. Old Matt had integrity ingrained in his bones. She suspected Matthew did, too. Was she willing to take a chance and find out?

  His proud figure strode farther and farther away. Slowly she followed. He reached their strewn clothes and sat down, then briskly scraped mud from his feet.

  Sinking down beside him, she said, “You have to admit it looks suspicious.”

  He didn’t say anything, just roughly jammed his foot into a boot. She knew she’d hurt him, and a heaviness settled in her chest. She tried to think logically about the whole structure of events, weighing possibilities. All that registered was the pain in those dark eyes.

  “No one’s ever shot at me before and it has me rattled,” she said. “I can’t imagine why anyone would want me dead, except the Townsends. But deep down I don’t believe you had anything to do with it.”

  Without saying a word, he jammed his other foot into a boot. She wanted to scream with frustration. This man was stubborn. What more did he expect from her?

  Then his eyes caught hers. “Do you really?”

  On a shaky sigh she breathed, “Yes.” She touched his face; she trusted him. That trust was tempered with feelings she didn’t want to think about.

  When he felt her hand on his cheek, he knew he’d forgive her anything. She had too powerful a hold on him, and there was nothing he could do to change it. He didn’t even know if he wanted to.

  “Let’s get one thing straight,” he said. His eyes didn’t leave hers. “I would never do anything to intentionally harm you. Yes, I’m the Townsends’ attorney, but I have your best interests at heart. And that’s the most unethical thing I’ve ever said in my life.”

  A smile lit up her face. “How can it be unethical when it makes me feel so good?”

  He gave her a smile in return, but shook his head. He didn’t have an answer for her. The feeling was contagious. “Put your shoes on. We have to find our way back to the truck.”

  She tried to remove some of the mud from her feet by rubbing them in the grass, then she hastily slid them into her sandals. Her face creased in obvious pain.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “This braid is giving me a headache.” Her hands tugged at the wet muddy plait. Her efforts were in vain.

  “Here, let me help,” he offered, and she didn’t protest. He knelt behind her, his hands unfastening the stubborn braid. As he pulled the ruined green ribbon free, long black hair fell down her back to the grass. He ran his fingers through the muddy tresses. “You have the most gorgeous hair I’ve ever seen.”

  C.J. heard the husky undertone in his voice and knew they were heading for trouble once more. She scrambled to her feet, not wanting to hurt his feelings again. “We’d better get going.”

  A strange expression crossed his face before he got to his feet. Without a word they started back through the woods. This time it was easier. They weren’t running, so the branches didn’t scratch their skin or tear their already-tattered clothes. They’d left a trail through the tall grass and followed it easily until it led them to the edge of the woods.

  Matthew stopped, listened and looked in every direction.

  An eerie feeling crept over her. “You don’t think he’s waiting for us, do you?”

  He glanced at her wary eyes. “No, I believe he thinks he got us in the river, but I’m just making sure.”

  Everything was quiet, just a gentle breeze teasing
the trees and an occasional bird whistle. The remote country road stretched on and on; their stalker was nowhere in sight. Satisfied, they climbed through the fence. It didn’t even bother C.J. when he held the wires for her.

  The truck was sideways in the ditch with a blown-out tire. “Well, city man, can you change a flat?” she asked.

  He grinned. “I was a country boy before I was a city man.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THEY CHANGED THE FLAT, then drove toward Austin. Matthew called the police from a pay phone, and they agreed to meet at Ryder Laboratories. Deputy Moore from the sheriff’s office and Detective Beal from the Austin police arrived minutes after C.J. and Matthew did. When it was established that they were uninjured, the police ushered them into a conference room.

  C.J. couldn’t help but think of the picture they made. Torn and dirty clothes, mud trailing from their skin, Matthew’s dark hair clinging to his scalp, hers hanging in knotted rattails.

  Dr. Ryder sent his secretary out to buy them clean clothes, and the interrogation started. Deputy Moore remained silent while Detective Beal grilled them. Of average height with dark hair and intense blue eyes, Beal kept asking the same questions over and over. Could they identify the truck? Did they see the man? Who would want to kill them?

  C.J. stated her suspicions about the Townsends, but the detective’s stony gaze gave her little satisfaction. Dr. Ryder’s secretary returned then, and C.J. hurried into Dr. Ryder’s private bathroom. She stripped off her dirty clothes and stepped into the shower, welcoming the spray of warm water against her skin. She’d thought she would never want to come near water again, but it was heavenly to feel clean. After drying herself, she did the best she could with her hair. Someday she was going to get it cut; it was just too much bother. She brushed the damp strands, then, using a rubber band the secretary had given her, secured it at the nape of her neck.

  Picking up the new clothes, she stared at them for a moment. A dress, panty hose and underwear. A dress? She hardly ever wore a dress, but she didn’t ponder the issue. She was grateful for what she had.

  The panty hose and underwear fit perfectly and she quickly slipped on the dress. Made of some silky fabric in a green print, it was a body-skimming design with a rounded neck and cap sleeves. She looked in the mirror and hardly recognized herself. Was this the same woman who’d left home with so many hopes this morning? Now someone wanted her dead. Who? Who hated her that much? The Townsends. Matthew’s clients. Was she right to put her trust in Matthew? She shook her head, knowing she was going to drive herself crazy if she didn’t stop thinking about him.

  WHEN SHE OPENED the bathroom door, she was startled to find Matthew standing there, holding his own fresh change of clothing. His gaze slid over her. “My, my,” he drawled, “it was worth the wait.”

  Self-consciously she ran her hands down the front of the dress. “It’s a little revealing, don’t you think?”

  He examined the low neckline and the way the material clung to every curve. “Never ask a man that question.”

  Before she could form a suitable response, Dr. Ryder came into the office. “Good, you’re dressed,” he said, nodding at C.J. “The lab’s ready for you.”

  Matthew gave her a reassuring smile, then disappeared into the bathroom. She followed Dr. Ryder down the hall. “It’s good to see you again,” Dr. Ryder said. A short thin man with a balding head and thick glasses, he was a typical researcher, studious and factual. “I’m just sorry you had to go through so much to get here.”

  “Thank you,” was all she could say. She had met the man at one of the rare parties she’d attended in college. After a few dances she would search for a dark corner and watch the party from a distance. That was where she’d met Cliff Ryder, who’d been hiding in a corner trying to escape the noise and jocularity while waiting for his girlfriend. He had talked about his research in DNA and she’d listened. When she’d thought of the paternity test, his name was the first that had come to her mind. C.J. felt he couldn’t be tempted by bribery from the Townsends or anyone.

  The lab procedure was quick and simple, and soon she was back in Dr. Ryder’s office. Matthew came out of the bathroom in jeans and a knit shirt. She stopped short. He looked so different.

  He glanced down at his clothes. “Something wrong?”

  “I’ve never seen you in anything but suits.”

  “Ah, this is the country-boy look,” he teased. “I told you he was still alive and well.”

  They smiled at each other. A smile filled with humor and desire. Warning bells went off in her head and she had to ask herself again—was she right to put her trust in this man?

  The impact of her smile shot through him, but despite the pleasure, he saw the uncertainty in her eyes. She wasn’t sure she could trust him. Under the circumstances, he supposed she had a right to be wary, but God, he didn’t like the hollow feeling it gave him.

  Dr. Ryder’s secretary came into the office. “The Townsends are being shown into the conference room,” she told them.

  “Detective Beal and Deputy Moore are having a cup of coffee,” Matthew replied. “Would you tell them the Townsends are here and ask them to give me about ten minutes?” Matthew turned to C.J. “Stay here. This won’t take long.”

  “No, I want to face them.”

  “C.J.,” he said, “it won’t do any good. Please let me handle this.”

  She stared into his eyes. She wanted to understand, to trust him. But why had he asked her not to see them? She needed to know if they’d hired someone to kill her. But realistically she knew they weren’t going to admit anything, so it was best to let Matthew and the police handle this. For now at least.

  MATTHEW DID A DOUBLE TAKE when he entered the conference room. He’d expected Rob and John, but the room was full of Townsends. Even John’s nurse, the resistible Stephanie Cox, was there.

  Rob walked over to him, glancing at his apparel with a disagreeable eye, then shook his hand vigorously. “Matthew, I think you know everyone. Dad, Aunt Martha, Stephanie, my twin sister, Joyce, and baby sister, Clare.”

  “Yes, although it’s been years since I’ve seen Joyce and Clare.” He was struck by the difference in the Townsend sisters. Joyce took after her mother, blond and beautiful, while Clare was dark and plain.

  “Yes, it has,” Joyce said, and gestured at everyone in the room. “You’re probably wondering what we’re all doing here. We wanted to give Rob and Dad our support. This is so ridiculous.”

  They could stand here and exchange pleasantries all day, but he had more important things on his mind. “Rob, could I have a word with you in private?”

  “You can speak in front of my family. We have no secrets.”

  He doubted that, but decided not to insist. “Okay,” he said. “Someone tried to kill C. J. Doe today.” A moment of silence followed. Matthew watched all their expressions. No emotion, nothing, just poker faces on everyone, except Clare. She appeared genuinely distressed.

  “What’s that got to do with us?” Rob muttered.

  “The police want to ask you some questions.”

  “Why?”

  “Because when it comes right down to it, there are very few people who’d want to see her dead, while you—”

  “We had nothing to do with whatever happened to her!” Rob thundered.

  “As your attorney, I should be inclined to agree, but since I was with her and they tried to kill me, too, I’m even more inclined to want some answers.”

  John’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You were with her?”

  “My truck broke down and she offered me a lift,” he explained, and went on to tell them the rest of the ordeal. “So,” he finished, “if anyone had anything to do with hiring this guy, I want to know now. Attempted murder is a serious charge and things could get ugly.”

  “I assure you no one in this room is that stupid.” Rob almost spat the words at him.

  “I sincerely hope not,
because I don’t take kindly to someone trying to kill me.”

  “Then maybe you should stay away from people like C. J. Doe,” John snapped.

  “Now, don’t upset yourself, John.” Martha gently rubbed his shoulder.

  Stephanie threw her a withering look. Matthew felt like telling them how badly he’d like to drop this case. But he had to stick it out. For his father’s sake—and for C.J.’s.

  He took a deep breath. “The police will be here in a few minutes. Just answer their questions honestly.”

  The questioning went smoothly. The Townsends answered everything to the detective’s satisfaction. Beal told Matthew later that he believed they had nothing to do with the shooting, but he would continue to investigate, as would the sheriff’s department.

  MATTHEW KNEW C.J. was furious that the Townsends got off so easily. They spoke little on the ride home, consumed with their own thoughts.

  He wanted to say something to reassure her, but he also knew she had to come to grips with her own feelings.

  The light was fading as she drove up in front of the Sloan house. Matthew studied her bleak expression for an extra second. “Dr. Ryder’s putting a rush on the tests. By next week you may know something.”

  “Yes,” she answered quietly, too quietly.

  “C.J., are you all right?”

  She glanced at him. “Someone tried to kill me, and I guess that’s starting to sink in. I’ll feel better once I get home to Pete and Harry.”

  Somehow that didn’t make him feel better. He wanted her to feel safe in his presence, but he understood she needed to get back to the environment that was secure for her.

  “Would you like me to follow you home? I could get my mom’s car.”

  She shook her head. “That won’t be necessary, but would you mind calling Pete and telling him I’m on my way?”

  “Sure.”

  “And please don’t mention what happened today.”

  He saw the worried frown on her face. “You intend to tell them, don’t you?”